


Save the Last Dance

by RubyFiamma



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Fluff, LJ Prompt, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the night winding down, Hayato's looking to do a little winding down of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save the Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> [heirofsilence](http://heirofsilence.tumblr.com/) asked: _Last Dance for 8059 please!_
> 
> Prompt taken from [here](http://archerastar.livejournal.com/29257.html).

**Save the Last Dance**

* * *

 

Weddings were never Hayato’s thing; the expectancy of socially interacting, having to keep the same false smile plastered on his face and having drunk girls asking him for dances he cannot refuse. Unfortunately there was no way of getting out of this one when he was asked to personally attend by an allied family of the Vongola and with Tsuna smiling as he urged Hayato forward like a father about to marry his daughter off into riches.

Thankfully the festivities are dying down and he’s able to slide away from the crowd and out onto a nearby balcony. The night air is crisp and refreshing, the sky is cloudless and an array of stars dazzle in their place. He can still hear the piano playing in the ballroom; the notes, soft and melodic, carried to his ears by the welcomed breeze.

He’s just about to light a cigarette when someone’s voice jolts him out of reverie.

“Thought I’d find you out here!” it chirps, only the disembodied voice doesn’t belong to just anyone. Hayato would recognise that irritatingly cheery sound anywhere at any given time.

“Jesus, Takeshi. You scared the shit out of me,” he chides, slipping the cigarette back into its pack.

“Sorry,” the other laughs as he steps out onto the balcony, fingers sliding against the breadth of Hayato’s shoulders. “Everyone’s leaving. Bartonelli wants to thank us for our attendance.”

“Okay.” He turns so that he can face Takeshi and it’s no surprise that the other is doe-eyed, flushed in the cheeks wearing the fondest smile Hayato’s ever seen. He can remember there was a time when it used to make him sick. Now all it does is make him smile in return. “Unbelievable.”

“What?” asks Takeshi, mouth dropping in question, eyes widening in innocence.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You’re totally drunk, aren’t you?”

Takeshi laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkle, the scar stretches out over his chin. “Guilty.”

Hayato reaches out in a movement all too familiar, curling his fingers in the fabric of Takeshi’s dress shirt, and pulls him forward. He’s not as violent as he once was, but Takeshi still capitulates just as easy, tipping over on his toes and finding his place right inside Hayato’s personal space. “Good,” he says as he wraps his arms around the other’s neck, stretches his fingers in the soft, ink-black hair. “That means you won’t remember this in the morning.”

“Hm?” Takeshi questions, his arms wrapping naturally around Hayato’s waist like they’ve always meant to be there. “Of course I’ll remem–”

“Dance with me,” Hayato says, shaking his hair out of his face. “You have one last dance in you, don’t you, Mr. Popularity?”

Takeshi’s grin widens and Hayato can still feel it when the other leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Of course. I always save the last dance for you.”


End file.
